


what i'd do for you

by lacedwithlilacs



Series: Fem!E/R Presidential AU [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Genderswap, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 10:32:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacedwithlilacs/pseuds/lacedwithlilacs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>E/R femslash. Grantaire spends the entirety of her Enlightments and Revolutions class worshiping the goddess Enjolras, who Grantaire doubts even knows who she is. Then God hears her prayers and pairs the two of them together for the class' final presentation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	what i'd do for you

**Author's Note:**

> Characterization: an attempt was made. 
> 
> **All that there is in this fic to make it Mature rating is Grantaire masturbating at the end. Sorry to get your hopes up.**
> 
> Year: 2005

Grantaire feels like she should have some solid idea of her sexuality by the time she's a sophomore in college. She doesn't have the slightest clue. In high school, a small town in the middle of Texas, she'd tried to explore. She had slept with men, only a few of them sober and then by the time she was 16 and discovered how blissful alcohol could be, she only let men touch her when she couldn't remember it in the morning. Nothing about them was attractive, certainly not the facial hair on the lead of all the school plays, not the arm and chest muscles of the football players and not the dick of the band's tuba player. The only one who was at all somewhat enjoyable was the swim team star who had shaved his legs that morning and Grantaire had felt the soft skin of his thighs against hers as he fucked her.

The first weekend of college last year, Grantaire had made out with a girl at a party while completely drunk. She didn't remember if the girl and her did anything else, the sole memory from that night being kissing the girl's soft lips and wanting to never pull away. Overall, she knew she preferred women, but there would be one or two men who she pined for and made her question her sexuality. Throughout the rest of the semester, Grantaire drank heavier than in high school and kissed girls, laid them down on her bed and fuck them with her fingers, but she rarely remembered much of it when she woke up.

She was comfortable identifying as a lesbian for a semester and then a French kid, Jules, stole part of her heart with his soft features and kind words. It wasn't a new thing, she was still interested in men somewhat, though she couldn't tell if it was more of an obligation to the small Texan hometown or if she was genuinely attracted to something other than their physical appearance. In the middle of May that year, Jules went back to France and she went back to the small Texas town to where she was stuck with masculine men.

So the second year of college, she vows she will do better. She'd managed to squeak by with a 2.5 GPA the first year, after showing up to a few too many exams either hung over or already drunk. There was no real point to college, she thought to herself and honestly she didn't care for much of anything at that point. College hadn't given her the experience that she'd hoped for. She didn't understand what she preferred between the sheets and she was quickly losing faith in the idea of education on such a grand level. Knowledge was great, but she could do without the grades and the exams.

Already sticking with the regime of last year, Grantaire shows up 10 minutes early to her first class so that later in the semester she has a bit of leeway for tardiness. She watches as the students begin to file into her Enlightment and Revolution history class from the back row, twirling a pencil between her fingers with a sketch book open in front of her. She doesn't expect to see anyone she knows, it's a big school after all, but her gaze is stuck on the door.

And then the girl walks in and instantly Grantaire finds herself snap out of her daze. An absolute goddess and Grantaire is certain if she looks a bit harder, she might be able to see the halo above the goddess' perfectly wavy blonde hair. Her hair reaches her upper back, waves of beautiful, sandy golden hair that look as though she must have spent hours in the morning perfecting the curls. Unlike Grantaire's hair, black and unruly with natural ringlets, when the goddess flips her hair over her shoulder, it actually looks sexy. Grantaire is already imagining kissing her.

The goddess takes a seat two rows in front of Grantaire and it's only the first day, so Grantaire spends the majority of it staring at the back of the goddess' head. Beyond her perfect face, lips so full and beautiful blue eyes all framed by her hair, which Grantaire vows to herself she must feel between her fingers one day, is an even more perfect body. She's thin, lithe and her skin is pale. She wears a pair of black dress pants with perfectly tailored cuffs that hit just above her feet and a white button up shirt with a bright red blazer on top.

The goddess turns around once she's taken her spot and up past Grantaire, who is suddenly extremely aware of how hard she's focused on this girl. Grantaire follows her eyes to the clock that's hanging a few feet above her head. The next time that the girl looks up at the clock, about five minutes later, Grantaire has to avert her eyes to the professor at the front of the room but she sees the little American flag pin on the goddess' lapel.

They do introductions in class first. The goddess stands up and Grantaire is immediately aware that this must be the goddess' natural state, addressing large groups of people with ease since her voice is strong and steady. "My name is Nicole Enjolras and I look particularly forward to the revolutions we'll study in this class. Our country is in need of a revolution and I believe that if we study the past revolutions, we can learn how to make our own revolution all the more effective." There are a few groans in various spots of the classroom when the goddess starts talking about revolution. Grantaire gets the immediate urge to hit them, but instead she rolls the name over in her mouth a few times. Enjolras. She likes the way it sounds, the way it makes her move her lips and tongue. Her mind flashes for a brief instance before she shuns the thought away. She would like to say Enjolras through a moan one day.

The introductions snake around down the rows and finally it's Grantaire's turn, who has never been the best at addressing large groups of people without the aid of alcohol. She regrets not having brought a small flask just in case, but she stands anyways and revels in the way that Enjolras' eyes are focused on her for this brief amount of time. "Hi, my name is Charlette Grantaire. Call me only Grantaire, otherwise I cannot guarantee my actions. I hope to be enlightened about something amazing in this class since I'm not really interested in anything to be frank."

The goddess, Enjolras, frowns a bit at her last part and Grantaire's stomach turns in knots. Of course she's already disappointed her and Grantaire tries to motivate herself to find something to be passionate about. She can't come up with a single thing besides alcohol. She spends the rest of the class period studying the back of Enjolras' head and hopes it's okay to refer to her as simply Enjolras since she clearly has not spoken a word to the goddess yet.

While she slacks off in her other classes on punctuality, showing up at most half an hour into the class, she makes sure she's always on time for her Enlightment and Revolution class by at least 10 minutes. She sits in the same spot as always, hoping that Enjolras will sit closer to her, but Enjolras stays in the same seat every week as well. Despite never interacting with the goddess beyond a simple wave when Enjolras looks up at the clock, she's learned how much of a natural leader she is, dominating discussions and class debates. Enjolras is smart too, coming up with connections that the teacher gives stars to, not that Grantaire watches as Enjolras flips through her test and essays.

Grantaire spends the entirety of the class studying Enjolras' every movement and following her every word. Her intense listening earns her a solid B+ on almost every paper and exam with little studying and a surprisingly small amount of alcohol consumption. For one of the parts of the class' final, they are assigned partners for a presentation on a certain subject, also assigned to them. God hears her prayers. She is assigned with Enjolras and of course they're given the French Revolution, which Grantaire is sure they're assigned only because they've both got French last names.

Enjolras brings her backpack up to the last row and Grantaire is finally able to see the bag up close and can see the pin from Enjolras' lapel on the first day of class on the strap of the bag now. "It's Charlette isn't it?" Enjolras asks immediately and for the first time in Grantaire's life, the urge to punch upon hearing her first name is not triggered. Instead, she's almost urged to let Enjolras continue calling her Charlette. It actually sounds beautiful when Enjolras says it.

"Just Grantaire," she corrects and twirls her pencil in her hand, shutting her sketchbook closed and rummages in her bag for this class' notebook. Due to her hangover when she'd packed it this morning, there is no notebook and she ends up flipping back through her sketchbook to find a blank page. She's almost shaking she's worried that Enjolras will catch sight of one of the drawings of her goddess. Enjolras sticks her hand out and Grantaire gives it a shake.

Enjolras' handshake is firm and strong, but her skin is soft against Grantaire's and when Grantaire pulls her hand away, it's quivering just the slightest. "So," Enjolras writes at the top page of her notebook 'French Revolution Project - Grantaire', "Do you have any ideas of how we should go about our presentation? I've already got a million ideas, but I figured it'd be best to hear what you have to say first before I solidify anything."

Grantaire is afraid that she's staring at her name, written in Enjolras' beautiful script, shaking her head instead as she copies the same title. "Not really," she cards her hand through her natural ringlets and pulls on the end of one of them, trying to seem relaxed. "I'd be interested in hearing what you have to say though." She's genuine in her response though, she is actually interested in hearing Enjolras speak, despite having never been very interested in anything before.

Immediately, Enjolras jumps in with a million ideas and is scratching them down on the paper as she thinks of them and Grantaire tries to copy them. The majority of her attention is focused on listening to Enjolras' enthusiasm though. The class period ends as Enjolras is describing her fifth potential presentation and they pack up their things in silence. Enjolras starts walking down the steps, wearing a pair of black slacks and a dark purple blazer today with a white button down beneath it and Grantaire imagines unbuttoning the shirt with her teeth. "Enjolras," Grantaire calls out and almost sighs in relief when Enjolras doesn't correct her with something like Nicole or Nicki, "Do you mind if I get a little contact info?"

Enjolras climbs back up the step to Grantaire's level and takes a pen out of her purse and writes her phone number at the top of Grantaire's notes for the day. Grantaire continues, "Just 'cause I don't think we'll be able to do this all in class. Maybe we should plan to meet up just for a little bit this week so we can get a little bit ahead of the game."

Enjolras looks up at her as she writes the dash between the last two sets of digits, her wavy blonde hair that seems to be perfect every single day falling over one shoulder, "I'm pretty busy, so would you mind giving me your number too? I can call you then. I mean, unless you're fairly busy yourself." Grantaire shakes her head as Enjolras thrusts her notebook towards Grantaire. Grantaire writes her number in the top corner of today's notes.

As hard as she tries, she can't completely convince herself that Enjolras had asked for number just to call her to schedule for a study session. There's a tiny flame burning bright, deep inside of her that makes her think that Enjolras had wanted Grantaire's number for other reasons. Maybe it was the way that she saw Enjolras smile brightly and slyly at Grantaire's page as Grantaire was writing her own number down.

Enjolras calls her the next day and Grantaire actually agrees to meet with Enjolras at 7 pm that Friday, during Grantaire's prime drinking time. They meet at the library that's half way between Grantaire's dorm and Enjolras' dorm, which Grantaire is certain she's never been in while sober before. Enjolras has stacks of books already pulled out and is flipping through them when Grantaire walks in, five minutes early and she wonders how long Enjolras has been here. "Hey," Grantaire says. Enjolras' head pops up for a moment before she turns back down to the page and continues reading. "Are all these books for us?"

Enjolras presses her index finger, the perfectly soft and beautiful, down in the middle of the page to hold her place and smiles at Grantaire as though she's told a funny joke. "No, all of them are for me. I'm reading about Seneca Falls for my First Wave Feminism history class right now." Enjolras folds the corner of the page and Grantaire frowns as she shuts it. She hates books with dog ear folds.

As before, it's surprisingly easy to listen to Enjolras go on about her ideas and how they think they should talk about all sides of the revolution so that the presentation can be as inclusive as possible. After they've come up with four different approaches to the topic, which they'll let simmer and talk about in the morning on Monday, they derail to Grantaire asking Enjolras about her classes. Enjolras is a current double major, Political Science and Communication and Rhetoric, though she's taken enough Women's studies courses to think about trying to branch into that subject as well.

Everything that Enjolras does, she puts her entire passion behind it. "It's a bit hard sometimes. Most people don't care to stick around past the discussion on our country's current political situation, but you have to surround yourself with people whose passion matches your own." Grantaire bites her tongue and tries not to say that she's just as passionate in the subject of Enjolras. "What are your interests?"

Grantaire starts pulling on curls again absentmindedly, "Well I don't really have any that are very interesting. I'm a Fine Arts major so I do a lot of painting and stuff, but I hate going to school to do art. You can't do art wrong, so I think grading art is stupid. I'm also a French minor, but that's just because my parents are French and it was easy for me to get into Enhancing French Skills. I don't really care too much about the language though and probably even less about the culture. I like alcohol though and sometimes men, but even that's getting less frequent these days."

Enjolras nods as she takes in the information, now pushing all of the textbooks and notebooks away from her, resting her elbows on the table and leaning forward. "How can you have no real interests?" Grantaire tries not to say anything inappropriate, but it's inching towards the tip of her tongue at a quick pace. "As for the alcohol, I don't really frequent that sort of thing too much. And don't even get me started on how disgusting men can be. Individually, they have the potential to be good, but as a species. I would be glad if I never had to talk to them again after some of the stuff I've heard them say behind my back."

As much as Grantaire wishes she could believe that Enjolras is being dramatic, she knows she can't. Enjolras is beautiful, gorgeous and Grantaire has not a doubt in her mind that there have been scores of men who tried to pick her up with wolf whistles and then call her a crusty bitch as she walked past them without so much as a glance. "Men are the worst," Grantaire says to fill the silence that's quickly pouring in.

Enjolras smiles and Grantaire feels her heart beat faster and her crotch twitch. This is getting out of hand, she tells herself, but there's absolutely no stopping her anymore. "Thank god I have absolutely no plans on them in my long term future." It clicks then and Grantaire adjusts in her seat and tries to think about anything besides Enjolras and being with another woman.

"Are you a lesbian?"

Enjolras' smile turns a bit more playful, almost devilish as she nods proudly. There's not a hint of shame in Enjolras' nod, not that Grantaire would expect such a thing to come from her. Grantaire's mouth falls open and she tries her hardest to get Enjolras naked in her bed out of her mind, but it's stuck there permanently. "Men aren't my preference either," Grantaire admits, though she's fairly certain that she identifies more with Enjolras' team than as a bisexual. It never took much desire to lay there and let men do the work that they wanted.

Enjolras waves her finger at Grantaire and lets out half a laugh, "I knew I liked you for some reason but I couldn't put my finger on it." Enjolras pulls her left sleeve back a moment and checks the golden watch on her wrist, frowning at its face. She sighs and looks back at Grantaire with a regretful look. "I've got to start heading back to my dorm. I have a class in the morning," she starts collecting her books and smiles at Grantaire's disbelieving look, "Yeah I have class on Saturday mornings."

Reluctantly, Grantaire stands up from her chair and collects her backpack, which is obviously twenty pounds lighter than Enjolras' bright red backpack. "Hey," Enjolras says as Grantaire turns around and starts making her way towards the entrance, "If I get any great ideas for the presentation, I'll call you okay?"

Grantaire tries not to read too far into her perfectly sweet and coy smile as she nods in response. For a split second, she almost thinks maybe she's not the only one who's been admiring from afar. Then she remembers, she's Grantaire and Enjolras is, well, Enjolras. There's no way a goddess would admire a poor peasant.

Grantaire gets back to her dorm room and thanks God that her roommate Natasha is probably out partying at her boyfriend's house and will spend the night there. Grantaire quickly gets ready for bed, even though it's only 10 at night and she could easily spend the next six hours minimum getting drunk and partying. She hits the mattress at 10:22 and pulls her blankets tight over her, rolling over onto her side and trying to will herself to sleep.

There is suddenly the replay of the entire night in the library though, every time that Enjolras smiled, got that look in her eye when she started talking about something she loved. Grantaire gives in, pulling her tank top down past her large breasts and rubs her nipples with the tips of her fingers. She must be crossing some sort of boundary here as she imagines Enjolras' beautiful perfect fingers over her instead. There must be a rule that says you must be at least at a certain level of friendship with your goddess before you can imagine her perfect hands on you.

She slips her hand, Enjolras' hand, between the outer lips and dips the tips of her fingers into the wetness that's only been increasing all night long. She starts immediately, no more debating in her head as she starts circling her clit with her middle finger, relaxing into the scene unfolding in her head. Enjolras, her beautiful lips pressing against Grantaire's neck and her wavy, perfect hair brushing against Grantaire's cheek.

Grantaire increases her speed, switching from her middle finger to her thumb as she presses the tips of her index finger and middle finger inside of herself. It's all Enjolras now, all that she's arching up towards and gasping against. She lets out muffled whimpers, bites her bottom lip to try and keep herself from crying out. When she comes, her entire body seizing up and releasing all at once, everything melting away, she barely whispers the name, "Enjolras," in a tiny moan. The name embedded into a moan, with her chest heaving and her thighs shaking, tastes even better than before.


End file.
